


Lullibies and I Love Yous

by Geronimo23



Category: Jim Henson's The Dark Crystal Series - J.M. Lee, The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Drenchgrot week, F/M, Nightmares, soft talk, wholesome content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geronimo23/pseuds/Geronimo23
Summary: Sometimes the crushing weight of leading the Resistance will take its toll on even the toughest Heroes of Thra. Luckily, a little soft talk can bring it all back into perspective.
Relationships: Amri/Naia (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Lullibies and I Love Yous

**Author's Note:**

> Special shoutout to ArtemisMohr18, thequeerhoneybee, and Tumblr user bluejay-123 for prereading and editing this piece for me! I'm rusty from having writer's block for so long, and I really appreciate having people who will support me in making sure my writing doesn't reflect that lol.

_The familiar dank darkness was seeping into her bones. Her head ached, she knew that, but she could barely feel anything beyond paralyzing fear. There they were—two Skeksis looming over her and those she held dear. It was like she was watching it unfold from above, and yet she was locked inside her body all over again. She’d been here before, and they’d escaped the Behemoth before, but it could still not quell the fear. “We’ll have to kill them all!” skekZok’s voice echoed around her throbbing mind._ Wake up, Naia. Please, wake up! _she could hear Amri’s voice, somehow both far away and right beside her. She could nearly feel the sickly warm breath from the Mariner as the Skeksis closed in around her, ready to strike the final blow…_

Naia woke up screaming. Again. Her voice was hoarse and her throat raw, having woken up to nightmares like this for the last few nights—each one of them new, and yet based on old memories. No matter what she did before she fell asleep, she would wake up a shrieking, sobbing mess. Tonight was no different.

Instantly, a pair of arms snaked their way around her. “I’m right here, it’s okay! You’re safe, Naia. I’m right here.” The voice in the dark soothed her as she got her bearings once again. Amri stroked her hair with a quiet shushing noise, and she began to regulate her breathing as the tears continued to streak steadily down her face. He had begun spending the nights in her hammock when they got back to Sog, partly because there was limited space for the influx of Gelfling at Smerth, and partly because she had been regularly waking up with night terrors. He felt so helpless—there was nothing he could do to stop these nightmares from haunting her. All he could do was be there to comfort her when she awoke.

Amri laid on his back in the hammock with his girlfriend sprawled on top of him, her head buried in the crevice of his neck. She could only imagine how loudly she had just been screaming into his hypersensitive ears. “Oh, Aughra’s eye, I am so sorry,” she cringed against the embarrassment.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered back. “It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose.” A moment, then he cleared his throat. “That one still haunts me, too.” There was a hitch in his voice, and she realized he was suppressing his own tears.

“I was dreamfasting in my sleep again…” It wasn’t a question, but a mortified acknowledgement. It would explain his voice in the dream. Not only was it embarrassing to dreamfast accidentally, but she hated to put him through the same horror that she was feeling night after night.

“You always do,” he chuckled, placing a finger under her chin and turning her face toward him. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She let out a sigh. “Okay. Just…give me a minute. I’ll be alright in a little while.”

“There’s no rush,” he wrapped his arms around her again, and dropping one leg over the side of the hammock so that he could touch the floor, he began to rock them gently back and forth. She tried to gulp back her continued sobs, desperately focusing on the even rhythm of her boyfriend’s breathing. She was even more frustrated this time. No matter what she did to try and mitigate these late-night outbursts, she couldn’t escape the trauma of what they had endured these past many unum. She was becoming worn down by reliving it night after night. She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind, and yet they lingered. The more she tried to forget, the harder it was, like a vicious cycle.

As if he could read her mind, Amri began to hum and then sing a soft lullaby. “Far from the Brothers’ blinding light / Beneath the blanket of the long night / Grottans work in the dark and deep / Where the glow moss grows and the crawlies creep / So lay down my childing and sleep / No need to fear and no need to weep…”

His low voice resonated in her ear where it lay against his chest, and she could feel her heart rate begin to slow again. The stream of tears slowed to a trickle. “Where did you learn that?” she asked, tilting her head upward so that her lips were nearly brushing his chin.

“I think every Grottan childling hears this song at a young age, when they suffer from their own nightmares. I was no exception.” He wiped her wet cheek with his sleeve.

They were quiet for what felt like a long time. She focused on the sounds of Sog drifting in through the window. What he’d said had planted the seed of a thought in her mind that grew no matter how she tried to suppress it. “Amri?” she whispered.

“Yes?” He was still awake, much to her surprise.

“Do you…” The question felt stupid to ask, and yet, she couldn’t help herself. “Do you ever want to raise a childing? Of your own?”

He snorted a little. “Well, right now seems a like an inopportune time, with everything going on.” That was an understatement, really. They were in the middle of a war with the Skeksis, who made it exceedingly clear that they wanted every last Gelfling dead. It would be a terrible time indeed to bring another Gelfling into Thra only to suffer under the same fate as the rest of them.

“Well of course not now,” she nudged him in the side. “But…well have you ever thought about it?” She would never say it, but she had certainly thought about it. In fact, she had only thought about it more often since she had met him, and especially since they had returned to Sog. When she saw him help around the hearth, tending to the old with a gentle kindness and the young with a playful laxity which put them all at ease…her mind would drift off to the thought of their some-day family before she could stop herself.

“Yes, I’ve thought about it,” his voice was tender and sweet, the way it sometimes was in these late hour conversations. “And if I could raise them with you? Then yes. I would love to rear a childling or two.”

She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, content with the answer. That is, until another thought crept its way into her mind. “And if we have a childling…will they be Drenchen, or Grottan?” The question spurred others in her mind. If they had a daughter, could she still be the Drenchen Maudra? What if she looked more Grottan? On that line of thought, what _would_ they look like? Cross-clan child-rearing was mostly uncharted territory. The Sifans had done it plenty, but that was part of their clan’s tradition. Kylan’s parents had been of different clans, but they had been cast out which had ultimately left them vulnerable to the Hunter. Even then, the Stonewood and Spriton were not fundamentally very different. They looked a lot alike, and their cultures were relatively similar. But the Drenchen and the Grottan? Both had been outlying clans, and in such different ways. So many worries swirled through her head in an instant, leaving her flustered and dizzy.

He interrupted her whizzing thoughts by cradling her cheek in his palm. “They would be both. And neither. What’s important is that they would be ours.”

She hadn’t realized she had completely stopped crying until the prick of tears stung her eyes again. This time, though, they were tears of joy. Of relief. Of overwhelming care for the Shadowling in front of her. It all clicked into place, for once. She felt like it finally needed to be said, as plainly as she could. She knew that he could she her better than she could see him, but she still did her best to fix her eyes on his in the dark. “Amri…I love you.”

The gentle swaying of the hammock jerked to a stop as his muscles tensed, his stiffened leg anchoring them to the floor. His breath caught in his chest. It was the first time either of them had said those words aloud. It was obvious how much they cared for one another by the way they treated each other, but neither of them had acknowledged it verbally like this before. He could not _believe_ she had beat him to saying it. He cupped her face in both of his hands. “I love you too, Naia. With all my heart.”

She climbed up his torso so that their faces were even, and without another word, pressed her lips to his. It was a slow, sweet, needy kind of kiss that grew deeper with each passing second. They slipped easily into another dreamfast, but this time was not like the others. Instead of sharing memories or thoughts, they merely shared the moment blended into each other’s consciousness. She could feel his love for her, and he hers—so overwhelmingly strong it made their hearts ache. It was only moments before she had to pull away.

“I have to say, you’re getting better at soft talk. Almost better than me,” he teased.

She rested her head back on his chest with another gentle prod to his ribs. “Go back to sleep,” she said with a chuckle. The roll of her eyes was nearly audible. With one final push of his foot that set them back to swaying, he reentangled his leg with hers in the hammock. It wasn’t long before they were both sleeping again; peacefully, this time. There would be no more nightmares tonight.

Tomorrow would be another day. The uncertainty of their world would still loom over their shoulders. The fear of the unknown and the trauma of what had passed would still be there in the morning. There would be more terrible dreams to come. But whatever was ahead, they knew they would be able to face it as long as they had each other.


End file.
